


Sweet On You

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Modern Era, Post-Canon, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Sometimes two immortals just want to experience a bit of domestic life. Joe and Nicky's recent try at this includes a tattoo shop and a florist.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 24
Kudos: 275





	Sweet On You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Writer's Month 2020 - Tattoo Artist/Flower Shop AU

“Nicholas.”

Nicky glanced up from his work — scissors held in one hand, and a roll of ribbon in the other, half curled and sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. His shop was pleasantly busy in the run up to Valentine's day with bouquets of roses, blood red and heavy with perfume, lining the far wall. His small group of customers were peering out of the opposite window, all intent on pretending not to be peering out of the window. The woman who had spoken to him had hair as curly as the ribbon he was holding, freckles dashed across her cheeks like stars and a faint blush clinging to her cheeks.

“The man in the shop next door…” Ah, Nicky knew where her line of thought was headed and set down the scissors, intent on giving the conversation his full attention. “He’s rather yummy, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Nicky agreed readily, unable to keep the grin from his face as he raised himself slightly on his toes, tilting his head to see what they could see in the large mirror. Joe, driven by the low shimmer heat of the day, had rolled his sleeves up, revealing the expanse of carefully organised tattoos laid out over his arms. 

“That’s the problem with these shops,” another woman said, abandoning the pretense of studying the small pot of daisies in front of her, “Very attractive shop owners.”

“That sounds like the opposite of a problem to me,” another woman laughed, nudging her companion. 

The first woman shot them a sour look, her mouth nipped to a thin line. She flicked her hair over one shoulder, a waterfall cutting her off from the group, and gave Nicky a look he felt unsure how to process. 

“He always says you make the best bouquets,” she began, stressing her words as if trying to impart a message to him that was just beyond what he could grasp. “He sings your praises to the highest heavens.”

“He is a good and loyal customer,” Nicky began, a spark of understanding beginning to dawn on him halfway through his sentence, “We opened at the same time, so we look out for each other.”

“I’m sure Joseph appreciates that. He seems  _ very fond _ of you.”

Nicky nodded slowly, deliberately and the woman shrugged, pink blush more pronounced now that she had conveyed what she needed to. 

“It’s such a shame—”

“Mum!” Her voice brooked no arguments, sharp and clear, as she twisted just enough to lock eyes with her mother before returning to face Nicky. Nicky tugged on the name badge he wore, rainbow flag carefully stuck onto one corner to match the one pinned up on the wall behind him, and shrugged at her, a world of understanding conveyed in that one motion. 

“Can I have some white roses as well?” she asked before leaning slightly forward, voice lowered, “They’re for my girlfriend as well so…”

Nicky nodded, grinning at her as she rocked back onto her heels, cheeks aflame. He slipped a couple more roses into the bundle before grabbing some white, mindful of the thorns now that he had been handling almost nothing but roses for the past month. They may look delicate but he knew their bite well.

“Thank you!” she said as he tied up the bouquet, ribbon bright and brilliant, folding it into her arms gently and burying her nose in the soft petals. 

Nicky knocked the register closed with his hip, waving a goodbye to the young woman as she ushered her family out of the door with the practiced ease of a general. He rolled his head from one side to the other, a crack as loud as a gunshot echoing around the still room as the tension released. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he glanced at the door, before quickly pulling it out, and reading the text.

_ Joe _ :  _ Early close, my love? I miss you. _

Nicky glanced at the mirror and caught the tail end of Joe’s grin, as beautiful as the first day he saw it.

_ Nicky: I will see you upstairs _ . 

It was a matter of seconds to flip the sign on the door and lock the door, the shutters rolling down with a harsh screech as Nicky moved into the back of the shop. It was crowded, a mess of boxes filled with assorted heavy items — meant to provide a distraction or a trap rather than serve a functional purpose — filled with as many false passageways as Nicky could pack into the small storage area, before he slipped through the maze and scrambled up the stairs to the apartment.

It was cramped: two rooms clumsily divided to make three, a tiny kitchen wedged into a corner to accommodate the massive queen sized bed that dominated the main room. The hot water was temperamental at best and broken at worst and any wind stronger than a light breeze threatened to rip the windows from their panes. Joe caught Nicky by the waist before he had taken more than two steps into their shared apartment — the winding staircases from both shops feeding into the same room — and kissed him until all thoughts threatened to leave his mind.

In that moment there was only Joe, the scratch of his beard against Nicky’s lips, arms pulling him impossibly closer into the heat of his body, all hard lines and muscle beneath the beautiful artwork that he had been privileged to watch Joe design. He could taste the coffee Joe always drank on an afternoon when they were being domestic, as Booker called it, strong and flavoured with cardamom beneath the mint of his gum.

“Hello, habibi,” Joe whispered, his voice thick and it took Nicky a few seconds to piece together his words from Arabic, a few seconds that sent Joe breaking into a grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“I had a girl in my shop—”

“I saw you had several women in your shop,” Joe laughed, Nicky swiping at his arm in a good natured gesture to be quiet. He took advantage to duck his head down, kissing down the curve of Nicky’s neck as the other continued.

“She said that you had been singing my praises.”

“I sang them this morning, and will sing them again, for as long and loud as you will let me.”

Nicky let out a bark of laughter, drawing Joe’s mouth back to his, their teeth knocking together for a moment as he began to nudge Joe back towards the bed.

“She could tell you were sweet on me.”

Joe paused for a moment, drawing back from Nicky to stare into his eyes, cupping his face as he pressed their foreheads together. Nicky breathed in, sharp and quick, staring into Joe’s eyes and knew he could love Joe until the end of time and it would not have been long enough.

“I love you. I love you now, and I loved you then and I will love you until the end of everything. I love your good heart that even a millennia of seeing the worst of humanity couldn’t take from you. I love how you protect me when we sleep, and how you let me protect you when we wake. I love everything about you, more than I could ever say in a thousand lifetimes.”

Joe kissed Nicky, once, twice, pulling him closer as Nicky wrapped his arms around Joe’s neck, feeling the steady beat of his heart as their lips pressed together again. 

“So yes, habibi, I am sweet on you.”


End file.
